


(i carry it in my heart)

by julek



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lowercase, M/M, no beta we die like the mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julek/pseuds/julek
Summary: simon's wings are a metaphorical door to his soul, baz thinks.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	(i carry it in my heart)

baz and simon's relationship comes to a halt after defeating the humdrum. after learning that simon had lost his magic, and killed the mage, and grown wings and a tail. silence fills their apartment, and most nights, baz climbs into bed alone. 

on good days, simon tries to talk to him. tries to explain how he feels, how everything he's done haunts him at night, how looking at baz sometimes hurts, because he's reminded of everything he’s not anymore. simon tries. and yet, no words come out. he opens his mouth only to close it again, ashamed, and looks away. 

and baz tries. he _really_ tries. he invites penny over every thursday, and buys simon the best cherry scones he can find, in a bakery that’s twenty minutes away. and he talks to him, he tells simon he loves him, and that it’s okay that he can’t say it back. he reassures simon that they’ll get through it together, no matter what. _spent seven years with you, snow, thinking we wouldn’t live through it. we can do it again._

he really tries. and he feels confident that they’ll make it, that he’ll be able to be the person simon really needs. that they’ll be able to heal and move on, and start living their own lives, dictated by no one but themselves. that after everything they’ve been through, they will get their happy ending. or whatever comes close to one.

but it’s not enough. 

so he tries in a different way.

-

it starts one morning, as a very shirtless simon pads into their kitchen, while baz is making coffee. 

his wings are spread in all their glory, and simon’s absentmindedly rubbing at his neck, muttering something about barely getting any sleep. he comes up to where baz is standing and kisses his cheek, running his fingers through baz’s disheveled hair. _good day, then_ baz thinks but doesn’t say. simon grabs his cup of coffee and is on his way to the couch when his left wing catches on a plant pot that’s hanging from the ceiling. he yelps and curses, though he manages to save his coffee from spilling across the carpet. 

baz watches simon’s wings, as he always does. he can’t _ignore_ them, they’re _right_ there. he knows simon doesn’t like talking about them, or anything, really, but his mind wanders. what are they made of? are they skin and bone, are they something else? baz never touches them, even though simon’s told him he doesn’t mind, ‘ _s not much i can do about them anyway_ , but baz feels it’s overstepping a very prominent boundary, a very visible one. 

so he watches. the way they spread and stretch, after hours of being spelled invisible; how they flap lightly whenever simon’s thinking too hard; how they flinch whenever someone gets too close. _it’s all simon_ , he thinks, an extension of himself that manages to communicate more than simon is able to. that’s when it dawns on him: how very human simon’s wings are, a contradiction in itself. how delicate, and receptive they are. simon’s wings are a metaphorical door to his soul, baz thinks.

so he sets to work. 

-

after a month of intense research, of reading every book he could get his hands on — _yes_ , even the forbidden books his family keeps in their library—, and watching a ridiculous amount of dragon movies, baz comes to a conclusion. a satisfactory one, even. 

simon’s wings are made of muscle, he decides. strong muscle thinly veiled by red skin, and _that’s_ why they’re so sensitive. _that’s_ why they must bother simon so much. because simon’s wings are spelled invisible and shut for hours every day, and it must hurt _so_ much. it’s all simon, and if life’s taught baz anything at all, hiding such a big part of himself is a heavy burden to carry. even if it’s something he never even _wanted_ in the first place.

with this new perspective, baz tries, again. 

he tells simon he wants to try something with his wings _-no, not that, snow, get your mind out of the gutter-_ and simon agrees, a bit skeptical at first. 

simon lies on his stomach in their bed, his wings spread wide. baz sits on the bed next to him, and takes the cap off a small bottle. balm, simon realizes. baz looks at him and there’s a look on his face, a _can i? will you let me?_ written on his eyes.

simon nods. 

baz starts running his fingertips along the small of simon’s back, gently rubbing some balm on the skin. his hands are cold against simon’s skin, always. he moves upwards along simon’s spine, massaging out the knots he encounters along the way, always checking for simon’s reaction. when he reaches his wings, baz’s hands stop moving.

“is this okay?”, he asks, half expecting simon to tell him to stop.

simon rolls over slightly, facing him; and baz’s seen his face a hundred, if not a million times. but this time’s different. simon looks at him and his expression is so unbearably soft that baz has to bite down the urge to kiss him senseless. 

“i trust you”, he says.

baz rubs between his shoulder blades lightly, slowly coming up to where his skin turns red and scaly. his fingers dust along simon’s right wing, tracing small circles, and he feels the tension leave simon’s body. he starts massaging the wing, and simon gasps. it’s a different kind of intimacy, too vulnerable; and baz wants simon to feel good, even if he thinks himself undeserving of such delicate touches. baz presses his fingers to the side of his left wing, the most sensitive one, and closes his eyes.

“there’s nothing”, simon whispers, and it startles him. “nothing i wouldn’t let you have. i wish there was more i could give you. i wish you could have more.”

and the truth is, 

it is enough. it always has been. even when all simon could give baz were bruises; even when all they’d share were snarky comments and ill-intentioned spells. it’s always been enough. even when all they could both feel was hatred, and long for someone to love them. even after baz lost his mother, and was given a roommate in turn. even when simon lost his magic, and there was nothing else left to give. 

baz opens his eyes, and pulls his hands back. simon lets out a tiny whine at the lack of contact, and reluctantly rolls over. he looks up at baz, and feels a cold hand on his cheek.

“you’ve given me everything i wanted”, baz says, his voice soft. “you always have.”

there’s a hand on his knee, and simon’s sitting up, wrapping his wings around them. time stops, and baz can only feel the warmth radiating from simon’s body. a thin, red tail curls around baz’s thigh, and simon pushes their foreheads together. 

and baz means it. he has everything he always thought he’d never have; everything he’d always been too afraid to want. it’s all simon. and baz wants to give back, wants to tell simon _i feel safe with you_ and _you kept me sane all those years_ and _let me make it up to you_. but he doesn’t, because he knows words will never be enough. 

so he tries his best. he lights a match inside his heart, and blows on the tinder. baz’s hands are warm as he takes simon’s, intertwining their fingers. he pushes everything he feels into them, looking up at simon, hoping he’ll feel it, too.

and he does. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://cherrybaz.tumblr.com).


End file.
